


The Best Sleepover Ever

by emmagrace13



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Boyfriends, Crushes, Fluff, Friendship, Love, M/M, Romance, Sleepovers, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 19:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14984441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagrace13/pseuds/emmagrace13
Summary: Cyrus's sleepover wishes have finally come true!  When Cyrus plans his first slumber party, his first thought is to invite his best 'bros' T.J. and Jonah.  However, when Jonah cancels last minute, it seems as if he and his crush are going to be alone for the night.  What could go wrong?





	The Best Sleepover Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Request by Anonymous: Prompt: a cute tyrus sleepower pleaseee
> 
> This prompt took the longest time, you have no idea (well, actually some of you do since I took an entire month to write this. Hopefully this long prompt makes up for that). I’d like to thank @ededdandreddie and @celsquietramblings for taking a look at this and making sure I wasn’t about to make a fool out of myself by publishing it with tons of errors and malfunctions (seriously, guys, means a lot!). I’d also like to thank @aro-mack for the pillow fight idea (you’ll see) from their Tyrus headcannons post. And I’m tagging @qwertykevin because they wanted me to, LOL! And, without further adieu, let’s get on reading!

“Who’s ready for my slumber par-tayyy?” Cyrus trilled enthusiastically.  He had been planning this outing for ages, and now that all three of them were available on the same weekend, it was the perfect opportunity for one of his biggest dreams to finally happen: a sleepover!  And with his two best ‘brahs’, Jonah Beck and T.J. Kippen!

When he received no response at first, he adjusted his phone so that Jonah and T.J. could see him better on their group video chat.  “Hello? Are you guys still there? I said who’s ready for my sleepover?”

Jonah was the first to answer him by making a crackly wince, and Cyrus frowned at his friend’s reaction; he had never seen _that_ facial expression before.  “I’m _really_ sorry, Cy-Guy, but the Space Otters were just invited to a last minute Frisbee tournament!  I won’t be able to come,” Jonah said, guilt lining his voice. At least he _sounded_ apologetic.

Cyrus tried not to show the heart-wrenching disappointment that was occurring in his chest.  When would he ever get the chance to have both of them over again? “Oh, that’s okay,” Cyrus assured him as best as he could manage.  He hoped his acting was at least _somewhat_ believable; especially after that whole school video fiasco.  Cyrus had learned not to put too much faith into his acting skills since the whole disaster.  “We could always reschedule—”

“Reschedule?” T.J. piped up.  Cyrus had almost forgotten he was on the group call; he had been pretty quiet for the majority of the video chat.  “I _just_ found my sleeping bag.”

Cyrus felt a tug in his stomach at the arise of conflict.  What could he do? On one hand, he didn’t want to leave Jonah out of their bound-to-be _spectacular_ sleepover, but, on the other, he didn’t want to disappoint T.J. by canceling on him.  What was the middle ground here?

Cyrus took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before he became too overwhelmed about the matter; he knew how he could get when he was antsy.  “How about me and T.J. have the slumber party this weekend, _and_ we reschedule one another time for all three of us?” Cyrus suggested.  Bless his intelligent mind for finding some kind of compromise!

“Oh,” Jonah said.  Cyrus couldn’t quite detect the tone that Jonah was using.  Did he seem disappointed? Completely forlorn? Or was he just being indifferent?  

Before he over thought the situation (he _did_ have a tendency to overthink at times), Cyrus tried to shake his worries from his mind.   _Relax,_ he reminded himself.   _You don’t need to read too much into his reactions anymore._ Despite getting over Jonah a while ago, second-guessing the boy’s expressions was still like second-nature to him, and Cyrus often found himself fretting about it.  

“I’m guessing that means you can’t come to the tournament?” Jonah asked dejectedly.  Now he was _sure_ Jonah was upset.  

Cyrus bit his lip to keep words from spewing out of his mouth.  He wanted to say ‘yes, of course, what are friends for?’. But he couldn’t disappoint T.J. like that.  Besides, Andi was right; Jonah _did_ expect everyone to cater to his needs, and now that Cyrus had taken off the rose-tinted glasses, he could see that.  “I’m sorry, Jonah. I promise I’ll go to the next game, alright?”

Jonah looked downcast, and Cyrus felt his heart twist.  “Yeah, sure. See you later, Cyrus,” he mumbled, crestfallen.  Before Cyrus could change his mind about not going to the game, Jonah logged off the call, leaving him and T.J. alone in shock at the Frisbee player’s abrupt, unexpected exit.

“I guess he’s not too happy,” T.J. commented after a few seconds of surprised silence.

Cyrus knew that T.J.’s comment was supposed to be his everyday dry humor, but it only made him feel worse about making Jonah upset.  T.J., noticing the boy’s eyebrows drawn together in worry, was quick to make him feel better. “Hey, I was just kidding. I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he tried.  

Cyrus tried to take T.J.’s words to heart as best as he could.  T.J. was right! He couldn’t worry about everything, even though his mind so desperately wanted to.  All. The. Time. “It’ll be fine,” he repeated, trying for a small smile. “Anyway, what time are you coming over?”

* * *

 

By that Friday, Cyrus had every last detail for their slumber party down: all the way from what they would be eating (thank goodness for The Spoon’s new carryout policy!) to what games they would be playing (only the classics, of course).  It was practically guaranteed to be the greatest sleepover in history!

When T.J. finally knocked on the door that Friday after school, Cyrus opened the door with a flourish, begging the boy to take his shoes off before stepping over the threshold.  As T.J. cautiously toed off his high-quality sports shoes, Cyrus took the boy’s bag (and almost fell over from its weight, but T.J. didn’t need to know that) and urged for the basketball player to follow him.  The two boys padded through the house as they shared pleasantries, their footsteps echoing in the seemingly empty home as they strolled along, and Cyrus led him to the spacious, open living room. There was a grand entertainment center nestled against the back wall with a colossal flat-screen perched on top of it.  The walls were painted a warm taupe, with the cream-colored double sectional accenting it well. A detailed antique coffee table sat in the middle of the room, covered with a few issues of _Therapists Weekly_ and a few movies that Cyrus had planted there.  

In short, it was a large room to take in, and T.J. absorbed his new surroundings with a thorough sweep around the room.  After he had given a rigorous glance around the area, he raised his eyebrows in surprise before shifting his gaze back to Cyrus.  “Nice place.”

“Thanks.  I guess being a shrink pays well,” he joked.  He tried to set down T.J.’s duffel bag as cautiously as he could manage, but it clattered onto the floor with a loud _thud_ despite his wishes _._ “Sorry!” Cyrus apologized sheepishly.  He carefully shoved it beside a resting chair so that neither of them would trip on it later.  It could happen!

The corners of T.J.’s mouth turned up, and Cyrus felt his stomach churn.  He loved to make T.J. smile. “It’s cool.”

Cyrus’s feelings for T.J. weren’t exactly new; he’d known that he’d liked T.J. for a while now, but alas, there was nothing he could do.  Well, besides soaking up every smile and laugh directed at him and overthinking T.J.’s every move. But even that he tried to keep at a minimum.  His feelings were surely unrequited, and he definitely didn’t want another Jonah Beck situation. “So, would you like to hear our game plan for this evening?” he asked excitedly.  He had everything planned down to the last _tee_.  

“Game plan?” T.J. asked, raising an eyebrow.  He seemed more amused than he did incredulous.

“Of course!” Cyrus exclaimed.  “Behind every great slumber party is a master game plan, right?”

T.J. gave him an entertained smirk.  “I’m assuming this is your first sleepover?”

Cyrus blushed.  “How could you tell?”  He’d always wanted to have a sleepover with Andi and Buffy, but it was hard enough for Andi’s grandmother to let them over during the day, let alone at night.  It was the same situation with Andi coming over to one of their houses for the evening; the request was completely out of the question. And thus began the worst playdate home award: a title still held by Celia to this day.

The basketball player shrugged.  “We don’t really have game plans at the sleepovers I go to.  We usually just play video games and talk about girls,” he admitted.

Cyrus's heart skipped.   _Talk about girls?  As in…crushes?_ “O-oh,” Cyrus stammered.  He was stunned, but he reprimanded himself for being shocked. _Of course T.J. has crushes on girls.  He’s not like you._ “Would you rather do that, then?” he asked nervously.  He prayed T.J. said no. He didn’t think he could pretend he had a crush on some girl for rest of the night.

T.J. snorted.  “No way,” he affirmed.  “Those sleepovers are lame, anyway.”  Cyrus raised his eyebrows, and he allowed himself to smile widely in relief. _Thank goodness!_ “So, what do you have planned?” T.J. asked.

Cyrus grinned excitedly.  “Okay, so first I planned for us to play the infamous Truth or Dare,” T.J. raised an eyebrow in amusement but didn’t comment, “and then we’re going to watch a movie while gorging on food from The Spoon, and then we’re going to have a pillow fight!”

T.J. couldn’t contain himself any longer, and he let out a little chuckle.  “A _pillow_ _fight_?”

Cyrus drew his eyebrows together in worry, and he frowned.  “Do they not do that at slumber parties?” he asked in confusion.  “I got all my information from Wikipage...,” he trailed off unsurely.

T.J. put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “ _Relax_ ,” he assured him.  “We can do whatever.  But I’m pretty sure I’ll beat you in that pillow fight,” he teased.

Cyrus felt a wave of relief wash over him.  “How do you know _I_ won’t win?” he jested back.

T.J. ruffled the boy’s hair, and Cyrus let him.  Although he normally had an aversion to having his hair touched, he found it endearing when T.J. did it.  “I’m not one to tell you what you can or can’t do,” T.J. said, and Cyrus suddenly got a flashback to when T.J. helped him get a muffin. _‘Don’t tell him what he can’t do.’_  He smiled at the memory; one of his favorite things about T.J. was that he didn’t automatically expect him to fail.

“So, you think I could beat you?” Cyrus asked excitedly.

T.J. grinned, and Cyrus saw a wicked glint in his eye that hadn’t been there before.  “We’ll just have to see!” Then, in a flash, T.J. was grabbing a pillow off of the couch and whacking Cyrus’s side with it.

“Ahh!” Cyrus yelped.  He tumbled to the floor, and T.J. towered victoriously above him.

“Is that all you’ve got?” T.J. asked teasingly, but not in a harsh way.  Cyrus nodded helplessly, holding out a hand innocently for T.J. to pull up.  T.J. rolled his eyes jokingly, and he clasped the hand in front of him, preparing to tug him forward.  “I can’t believe you’re already giving u—!” Cyrus jerked his arm with all his might (which wasn’t saying much), and brought T.J. crashing down on top of him.

The floor broke T.J.’s fall, his hands pinning down the hardwood on either side of Cyrus’s head, which prevented him from completely falling on top of the boy.  “Was…not…expecting that,” T.J. managed to breathe out between pants. Cyrus laughed, although he could hardly breathe with their close proximity. For a second the two boys just stayed in that position, staring at each other, and Cyrus gulped.  T.J. was too close for comfort, and yet somehow wasn’t close enough…

Cyrus ignored the irrational part of his brain that had thought that. _T.J. likes girls_ , he reminded himself for the umpteenth time.  Unfortunately, his logic didn’t seem to pierce his heart like he was hoping it would _._ “Um,” he managed to say, which shook T.J. out of his daze.

“Right.  Sorry,” he apologized, blushing slightly (which was not something Cyrus thought the basketball player was capable of.  Especially not because of _him_ ).  He carefully got up, pushing himself off of Cyrus, and Cyrus took a big gulp of air.  Now he felt like he could _breathe_ again.

Once Cyrus cautiously lifted himself up, he brushed his clothes off, avoiding T.J.’s eyes.  “Does that mean I win?” he asked, although his voice didn’t hold the triumphant tone he thought it would.  The butterflies in his stomach were probably just messing with his head, he noted.

“Sure, Underdog,” T.J. relented, albeit more than willingly.  He faintly nudged Cyrus, causing the boy to meet T.J.’s eyeline at the motion. “See?  You can do anything you want to.”

A small grin stretched itself onto Cyrus’s face. “Thanks, T.J.  It means a lot.” The two shared a gaze again, and Cyrus, intrigued, almost took a step closer, but the sound of bustling emitted from the kitchen, breaking the two boys from their stare.

“Cyrus!” a loud voice bellowed.  Cyrus cringed at its volume. His mother with her perfect timing, as always. “I’m home!”

Cyrus smiled sheepishly at T.J. before turning towards the direction his mother’s voice was carrying from.  “Coming!” He glanced back at T.J., making a motioning signal with a dip of his head. “Come on,” Cyrus said softly.  He placed a hand softly onto the small of the basketball player’s back, and guided the boy forward. “I hope you like baby taters!”

* * *

 

After the two boys piled their plates up with food (it was burgers and baby taters and milkshakes galore!), they plopped down on the couch (which was a rarity for Cyrus, but his mom allowed him to eat on it just this once.  He guessed even _she_ wasn’t going to deny him this one normal teenage experience).  For a few minutes they just stuffed their mouth with food, although Cyrus was trying to persuade T.J. to pick a movie in between bites of his delectable tators.  

“Come on, T.J.,” he insisted.  “Just pick one.”

T.J. shrugged, popping one absentmindedly into his mouth.  He seemed indifferent to all three choices. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

Cyrus groaned.  He studied all three movies in front of him ( _Jurassic Park, The Notebook,_ and _The Wizard of Oz_ ) as if they would inform him what movie would best be suitable for his company.  “I picked an action movie, a romantic-comedy, and a classic musical. How much more variety do you want?” he exclaimed.

T.J. snorted, but humored Cyrus nevertheless.  “Fine, I’ll pick one.” He glanced over the titles without much care and pointed to the one on the right.  “That one.”

Cyrus looked at him with surprised, widened eyes.  “ _The Wizard of Oz_ ?” he asked questioningly, as if to make sure T.J.’s decision hadn’t been a mistake.  “I thought you would’ve picked _Jurassic Park,_ honestly.”

T.J. shrugged.  “My mom loves that movie, so I kind of grew up watching it,” he admitted.  Cyrus realized it was the first time that T.J. had ever really mentioned his parents, so he just nodded and wordlessly popped the disc in.  

“Do you know what happened behind the scenes of this movie?” Cyrus asked as the introduction began to play.  “I hear it’s pretty macabre—”

T.J. grimaced.  “Please spare me the gory details,” he insisted, scrunching his nose.  Cyrus smiled secretly to himself. He thought T.J. looked adorable when he scrunched his nose up like that.

 _Stop!_ he reminded himself as the thought popped in his head. _You just went down this road with Jonah, do you really want to go through this again?_ When T.J. gave him a sweet smile, his heart melted.  Yes, it seemed like he _did_ want to go through this again.

As these thoughts swirled around his head, Cyrus tried to wipe them from his mind and, in better judgement, forced himself to turn his attention back to the movie.  He thought that T.J. would find it pretty weird if he was being more attentive to him than to Dorothy.

During the first twenty minutes or so of the movie, Cyrus was pretty successful in his pursuit.  He only caught himself glancing at T.J. a couple of times (three, to be exact, but who was counting?) and, by the time Dorothy was prancing around Oz on the newfound Yellow Brick Road, Cyrus tore his gaze away from the television and allowed himself _one_ freebie to ask T.J. a question.  “Who’s your favorite character?”

T.J. looked at him in confusion, and scanned his face calculatingly, as if he could deduct the reasoning behind Cyrus’s random question by his facial expressions alone.  “Why?”

“Just curious,” Cyrus claimed.  Actually, he had learned from his shrink parents that people had a reason behind every action, like, or dislike; they even had a reason behind something as simple as a favorite character in a movie.  

What more was there to the guarded basketball player than what was seen on the surface?

T.J. sighed.  “I dunno,” he said, glancing down at his lap for a second.  He fiddled with the hem of his shirt before his gaze shifted back to Cyrus.  “Probably the Scarecrow.”

Cyrus tilted his head in curiosity.  “Why him?”

T.J. shrugged again, and Cyrus wanted to put both of his hands on T.J.’s shoulders to physically restrain him from lifting them.  He knew it was a nervous tick of T.J.’s, one he usually did when the atmosphere felt more heavy or uncomfortable than he was used to.  “I guess because he ends up being smart and stuff,” he admitted, his eyes quickly flickering to Cyrus before flitting away again. “Even though he thinks he’s stupid the entire movie.”

Cyrus felt a zap go through his body in shock.  Was…was T.J. referring to his learning disability?  He knew that T.J. was insecure about it but…he seemed so _devastated_.  “The Scarecrow was smart all along,” Cyrus pointed out, feeling his throat tighten.  His heart hurt for the boy beside him, and he allowed his hand to lightly brush against T.J.’s forearm in order to console the boy.  “He just needed someone to believe in him.”

T.J. finally fully turned towards Cyrus.  “Yeah,” he mumbles, a small half-smile on his face.  “I guess you’re right.”

Cyrus beamed exultantly.  He wanted more than anything for T.J. to believe that he was worth something; he desired the same for himself everyday.  “Of course I’m right,” Cyrus said determinedly. Couldn’t T.J. see that he was so much more than his disability? Cyrus wished that he could show T.J. how he saw him, how much he _admired_ him, but, then again, that would be outing his feelings to the boy and, even more so, himself, and Cyrus wasn’t sure if he was ready to do that just yet.

“What about you?” T.J. asked, a curious tone lining his voice.

Cyrus glanced at him.  “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.  Who’s your favorite character?”

Cyrus pondered for a moment.  Who was his favorite character?  And why were they his favorite in the first place?  “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. He thought about it for a couple more seconds before giving a definite answer.  “The Cowardly Lion,” he confirmed for the boy.

T.J. raised his eyebrows.  “Because he ends up being brave in the end?”

Cyrus smiled.  “Yeah. Because he ends up being brave in the end.”  Suddenly Cyrus was glad that T.J. chose this movie after all.

About midway through the musical, Cyrus inquired T.J. about their upcoming activity that he had up his sleeve.  “When do you want to play Truth or Dare?”

T.J. gave him an indifferent expression.  “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Cyrus leaned forward and turned down the volume so that they could speak at a normal decibel without struggling to be heard over the movie.  “How about right now?” he asked ecstatically. The prospect of playing the thrilling game was causing excitement to drum through his veins. It was exhilarating!

T.J. sat up and he adjusted himself so that he faced Cyrus.  “ _Fine_ ,” he said, feigning annoyance.  His smile gave his tone of voice away.  “You go first.”

Cyrus beamed.  “Okay. So…,” he began ominously.  T.J. grinned. “T.J., truth or dare?”

T.J. raised his eyebrows in a challenging manner.  “Dare,” he said matter-of-factly.

Cyrus racked his brain before coming up with a particularly _deadly_ dare, and he smiled widely.  “Okay, okay,” he started, gesturing towards T.J.  “I dare you to call Buffy and tell her that you think she’s better than you at basketball.”

T.J. groaned into a pillow.  “No,” he grumbled reluctantly.  Cyrus grinned happily. He didn’t know he was going to make T.J. cave so easily.

“Come oooon,” he drawled, handing T.J. his phone.  

T.J. pouted his lips, just like he had that one day on the swings, and Cyrus felt his face burn. _T.J. looks so cute_ , Cyrus commented.  He so badly wanted to move forward, and...well, kiss him.  

Cyrus tried to suppress the feelings rising up inside of him.  It was becoming harder and harder to fight off his feelings for T.J. with each passing minute…

“Hello?” T.J. said boredly into his phone.  Cyrus shook himself from his thoughts. He didn’t even remember T.J. calling Buffy!  He must’ve zoned out.

Cyrus heard Buffy speak, but her voice was muffled through T.J.’s phone, and he urged T.J. to put her on speakerphone.  The boy’s gaze shifted over to Cyrus momentarily, and he followed his request, swiftly pressing the speakerphone button before placing his cellphone between them on the couch.

“—and you have the audacity to call me?” she finished with an annoyed huff.  Cyrus looked questioningly at the basketball player, and T.J. shrugged, looking just as lost as he was.

“Buffy,” T.J. started, “I have something to tell you.”

Cyrus could practically see his best friend roll her eyes cynically, despite her being in her own house at the moment.  “It better start with ‘Buffy’ and end with ‘I’m sorry for being such a jerk’.”

T.J. tilted his head forward.  “ _Actually_ ,” he began to correct, “I’m calling you because I wanted to tell you that you’re better than me at basketball.”  T.J. scrunched his nose at his own words, glaring at Cyrus for giving him such an awful dare, and Cyrus smiled smugly in return.  

“What?” Buffy asked, her voice clearly sounding skeptical.  “T.J., you always tell me that I stink and should drop the team, but now you’re telling me I’m _better_ than you?”

“Pretty much,” T.J. said curtly.  Cyrus could tell that some kind of dark energy was thrumming in the boy across from him, but he couldn’t place a finger on exactly what it was.

“Which of course I already knew,” Buffy said arrogantly, speaking as if T.J. hadn’t even said anything at all, “but I’m still not sure if I’m following.  How exactly did you _come_ to this conclusion?”

T.J. clenched his jaw frustratedly, and Cyrus reached forward to hold his hand, to squeeze his shoulder, anything at all to help him calm down.  He had never really seen T.J. get so worked up before. “I’ve always known you were better than me,” he admitted angrily. He crossed his arms, and Cyrus settled on resting his hand on his knee instead of grabbing his hand.  “It’s why I lash out at you all the time. I’m just...frustrated because you’re better than me at _everything_ .”  Cyrus’s eyes widened at the basketball player’s words; he knew that T.J. wasn’t just saying this to complete a silly dare.  He actually _thought_ this and was insecure about it.  Clearly a nerve had been struck.

Buffy, completely floored, began to speak.  “T.J., I—”

T.J. swiped his phone from between them, clutching it so hard that Cyrus was afraid that the glass might shatter in his fingertips.  “Whatever. Just forget I said anything.” And with that he angrily tapped the hang up button, tossing his phone onto the plush rug underneath them.

Cyrus didn’t know what to say at first.  He had _no_ _idea_ T.J. felt that way.  “T.J., is…is that true?”

T.J. let out a long, deep sigh, and he slumped onto the cushion.  “Yeah.”

Cyrus scooted closer, and tried to ignore the way the butterflies in his stomach fluttered as their knees brushed against each other.  “That’s why you hate Buffy so much? You think she’s better than you?” he asked in disbelief. The news was shocking, to say the least.  Cyrus had always wondered why T.J. had such a vendetta against Buffy, but he had never imagined this. Not in a million years.

“It’s just part of my stuff, I guess,” he joked lamely, but Cyrus saw straight through his mask and saw the pain that was lying underneath.

“Hey, it’s okay to be insecure,” Cyrus assured him.  In a moment of feeling particularly daring, he moved closer, and his heart soared when T.J. didn’t flinch or move away.  “I feel insecure all the time. It’s just part of being a teenager.” Or, in his case, just a part of being Cyrus.

“I don’t want it to be,” T.J. confessed tiredly.  He drew in a deep breath before he sat up, shaking out his arms as if to rid himself of any insecurities he had.  If only it were that simple. “Anyway, truth or dare, Cyrus?”

Cyrus gave him a worried glance.  “T.J.…”

“I’m fine,” T.J. insisted adamantly, although Cyrus didn’t quite believe it.  “So…?”

“Truth,” Cyrus answered.  

T.J. huffed out through his nose, clearly expecting his answer.  “Not surprised.”

“Hey!” Cyrus defended. “Honesty can be more bold than an actual dare.”

T.J. humored him.  “Fine.” He paused, seeming to be deep in thought.  After a moment, he looked at Cyrus decidedly. “What is some of your stuff?”

Cyrus froze, his heart pounding in his ears.  His stuff? Did he mean…about him liking boys?  What would T.J. even say if he told him? Would he react badly?  What if he hated him? “T.J., I…” Cyrus felt his throat tighten.  Was he even ready?

T.J. seemed to notice the frightened look glimmering in his eyes, and he rested a hand on Cyrus’s shoulder, keeping an intense gaze.  “Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything _deep_ , just…tell me something that you haven’t told me already.”

Cyrus felt relieved beyond words, and he sent an appreciative smile T.J.’s way.  “Alright…um,” he started nervously. He racked his brain. What was something he could tell T.J.?  “Oh, I know! I’m scared of the dark.”

T.J. raised his eyebrow dubiously.  “You’re scared of the dark?” Cyrus nodded solemnly.  Suddenly he felt self-conscious at his sudden confession.  He knew that it wasn’t normal for boys his age to still be scared of the dark, but Cyrus feared that it was a part of his deeply rooted trauma that he’d never be able to rid himself of.

“That’s gotta be rough,” T.J. offered, and Cyrus felt relief wash over him at his response.  Of course T.J. wouldn’t make fun of him! This was the same guy who didn’t tease him for singing a song about going down the slide.  How could he expect anything less from T.J. in the first place?

“Yeah, my phobia is high maintenance at times,” Cyrus admitted.  “Especially in the winter when it gets dark earlier than normal. But I usually go to bed at 8:30, so it’s pretty manageable,” he elaborated.

“You go to bed at 8:30?”  

Cyrus didn’t think the basketball player’s tone could get anymore incredulous.  “Yep!” He checked his phone, which blinked back at him with the time. _10:27 PM._ Crud!  He hadn’t stayed up this late since he had a late night fashion show with his new James Bond ‘Diamonds Are Forever’ collection.  “ _And_...I might crash any minute.” Cyrus said in desperation.  “We better go to sleep ASAP!” He hurriedly threw a blanket over him, but it landed on his head instead of his lap, which had been his intended target.  He heard a small chuckle leave T.J.’s mouth, and the boy carefully unveiled it from Cyrus’s head, revealing his now disheveled hair underneath.

“I don’t want to go to sleep yet,” T.J. told him.  Suddenly, the basketball player got a mischievous glint in his eye that made something dark bubble in Cyrus’s stomach.  Whatever he was about to propose was _not_ going to be good.  “Hey, I know. We should pull an all-nighter!”

Cyrus made a face.  “T.J., I just told you.  I’m scared of the dark,” he whined.

T.J. shrugged.  “I’ll be right here beside you.  Besides, we can leave the lamp on.”

Cyrus looked at T.J.’s hopeful expression on his face, and he relented.  He would be safe with T.J., right? “Can I get my Diplodocus nightlight? It helps me sleep at night,” he admitted.

T.J. looked at him blankly.  “Diplo-what?”

Cyrus just shook his head good-naturedly at the boy.  Perhaps they didn’t share an interest for the most fascinating species that had once ruled the earth like Iris had, but Cyrus wouldn’t have it any other way.  “Never mind, I’ll go get it.”

When Cyrus returned with his Diplodocus nightlight, he found T.J. at the entertainment center, ejecting _The Wizard of Oz_ disc (that had long been over) and putting _Jurassic Park_ in its place.

“What are we even going to do all night?” Cyrus asked as he struggled to plug in his nightlight.  He forced it into the outlet, the prongs of the dinosaur light being reluctant to go into the slits in the wall. With one last shove, the device slid into the outlet, causing it to shadow a faint glow throughout the otherwise darkly lit room.   _Finally!_ Now that that was hooked up…

“I don’t know.  We can keep watching movies, and we can still play Truth or Dare…,” T.J. trailed off as Cyrus rose up next to him.  “Sound good?” T.J. said, giving him a soft smile.

Cyrus got lost in his blue-green eyes.  “Y-yeah, sounds good,” he stammered. He felt himself get flustered as he realized he was staring longer than what was considered appropriate, and his eyes darted away in embarrassment. “I gotta go change into my PJs!” he exclaimed, turning his head quickly to hide the blush on his cheeks.

T.J. blinked dazedly, as if he had been broken from a trance.  “Okay?”

Cyrus clambered to his bedroom (almost tripping on the way there), and he closed his door in a flourish, heaving behind it.  How was he going to last the night with T.J. being so…cute, and lovable, and _amazing_?  He had absolutely no clue.

After dressing himself into his dinosaur pajamas (they fit the occasion, after all), he took a deep breath, his hand gripping the metal door handle tightly.   _You can do this,_ he reminded himself.   _Just don’t be weird._  Cyrus almost laughed at his advice to himself.  Not being weird was easier said than done in his case.

As he strolled out into the living room, smoothing out his clothes nervously, his eyes swept over the room.   _Where is T.J.?_ he asked himself in the painstakingly empty living room.  Before he knew it, a loud, “Boo!” sounded behind him, and Cyrus jumped, his heart racing.

“You scared me!” he claimed breathlessly, clutching his hand over his heart.  For the first time, he noticed that T.J. had changed as well. He was now donning a pair of sweatpants and a white V-neck that almost made Cyrus flush in comparison.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, but the mirth dancing in his eyes gave away the sincerity of his apology.  T.J.’s eyes then flitted down to Cyrus’s attire, and he smirked. “Cute.”

Cyrus blushed again, and he felt tingly from his head to his toes.  “I know it’s nerdy to have dinosaur pajamas, but…,” Cyrus trailed off, not exactly knowing how to finish.

T.J.’s grin grew even wider.  “I wasn’t making fun of them.”   _Oh._ Was...was T.J. calling his pajamas cute?  Or was he referring to Cyrus?

“Thanks,” Cyrus mumbled, his cheeks twinged pink.  This boy was going to be the death of him.

T.J. flopped down onto the floor, nestling into the narrow space of the double sectional, and he patted the limited space beside him.  Cyrus swiped the remote off of the coffee table and he pressed play before seating himself snugly between the L-shaped part of the couch and T.J., and Cyrus couldn’t help but hold his breath.  T.J. was _so close_.

T.J. beamed at him, seeming unbothered by their close proximity, and he snatched a blanket off of the back of the couch.  “I’m cold,” he claimed, pulling it across his body. He threw some of it onto Cyrus’s lap, too, and Cyrus snuggled against its warmth.

“Me, too,” Cyrus said with a small smile on his face.  How he stopped himself from completely melting on the floor, he had no clue.

As the movie started up, the two boys kept up a tame game of Truth or Dare while they watched Dr. Alan Grant and Dr. Ellie Sattler traipse around the park with Lex and Tim.  Whenever Cyrus would ask the infamous question (“Truth or Dare?”), T.J. would always answer with ‘dare’, to which Cyrus had to rack his brain to conjure up for (most of the dares he gave T.J. consisted of prank calling random people from school, since Cyrus did _not_ want T.J. to leave their comfy little spot on the floor).  It was a while of back and forth, but, after a round that ended on Cyrus’s turn, it was apparent that T.J. was beginning to slowly lose consciousness.  

“T.J.!” Cyrus exclaimed as the boy next to him slumped onto his shoulder.  His heart began to pound at the prospect of being by himself in the dark. While normally he felt safe with his nightlight on, he still felt like he was being swallowed whole by the surrounding void around him.  The living room was a lot bigger than his bedroom!

Cyrus began to tug on T.J.’s sleeve, and T.J. nuzzled against Cyrus’s shoulder at the motion instead of waking up like Cyrus had hoped.  “T.J., wake up!” he hissed urgently.

A loud, rattling stomp sounded from the surround sound system, and Cyrus felt himself tremble.  His favorite cold-blooded friends seemed a lot scarier when it was dark out. “T.J.!” he called out again.

“Hmm?” the boy murmured, lifting his head slightly.  He rubbed his eyes tiredly and glanced at his surroundings in a confused manner before his eyes landed back onto Cyrus.  “What’s wrong?”

Cyrus cracked a small smile at the boy’s mussed hair, but a scream from the television reminded him of the fear that was bubbling in his stomach.  “The movie is scaring me,” he admitted.

T.J. huffed and slumped back onto Cyrus’s shoulder.  “I thought you’ve seen this movie before.”

“Never in the dark,” he said worriedly.  He continued to fiddle with T.J.’s T-shirt anxiously, its soft, soothing material feeling nice against Cyrus’s fingertips.

T.J. drew in a breath of air and exhaled deeply, and Cyrus shivered from the boy’s breath on his neck.  This wasn’t a normal thing to do, right? Most boys would never (dare he say it) _cuddle_ …would they?  He had no experience, really, unless he counted Jonah, and they had never gone as far as pats on the back and slung arms around each other’s shoulders.  

Before he had a chance to overthink their current situation, T.J. broke him from his thoughts.  “Tell me all the dinosaurs you know,” T.J. said, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position.  

Cyrus’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.  “What? How—”

“Just tell me about them,” T.J. mumbled against his shoulder, and Cyrus swallowed before answering him.

“Alright.”  He would take any opportunity to talk about his favorite species, even if he didn’t know T.J.’s motive behind the request.  “There’s the Stegosaurus…oh, did you know it only has a brain the size of a walnut? Crazy, right? And the Saltopus…” Cyrus continued to list all of his favorite dinosaurs, and all of the fun facts he knew about them (did you know that a Argentinosaurus was the longest _and_ the heaviest dinosaur?).  Despite being on the brink of unconsciousness, T.J. tried his hardest to stay awake to listen to him.  He even laughed at some of the puns Cyrus made about dinosaurs, which Cyrus appreciated wholeheartedly.  Most people didn’t value his well thought out reptile puns to the extent that he wanted them to.

By the time he finished his extensive rambling, the credits were rolling onto the screen, and Cyrus realized what T.J.’s intent had been.  He had been trying to distract him from the movie, and it had worked perfectly! That sly boy…

After he turned off the TV using minimal movement (T.J. had _just_ fallen asleep, and he would’ve felt bad for waking him up again), Cyrus cautiously wrapped an arm around T.J.’s upper torso.  Hey, if he was going to be in this position for the rest of the night, he might as well get comfy, right? That’s what he told himself, at least.

Before he allowed himself to drift off to sleep, Cyrus looked over at T.J.  This was the boy who had just listened to him babble about dinosaurs for thirty minutes instead of laughing at him.  Who’s to say that T.J. would hate him for being gay? Or would be opposed to it? Maybe he would be indifferent, or maybe he’d be supportive.  But, either way, Cyrus really wanted to tell T.J. about his stuff. And he hoped that T.J. would be open to telling him about his, too.

* * *

 

When Cyrus woke up the next morning, he smelled the distinct scent of sweet maple syrup wafting from the kitchen, and he burst up, completely forgetting that T.J. was leaning on him.

“Ow!” T.J. winced tiredly, burying his head back into Cyrus’s shoulder.  

“Ah, ah, ah,” Cyrus said, shaking him awake, “time to eat breakfast!”

T.J. groaned, but got up nevertheless, fixing his twisted white V-neck as he yawned.  “What’s for breakfast?” he asked as he rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up.

Cyrus grinned.  “If I know my mom, she’s making her famous waffles!”  He hurried over to the kitchen bar, settling himself into a stool, and T.J. followed suit.  Across from the bar was Cyrus’s mom, grabbing plates out of the pantry for the two boys.

“Hey, boys,” she said cheerfully, setting down a plate and a glass in front of them.  She filled each glass up to the brim with orange juice, and Cyrus smiled back at her.

“Good morning, Mom!” he exclaimed.  She came over and kissed his cheek as she plopped down a steaming waffle onto each of their plates.  “Ooh, these are the best waffles ever!”

“They are, aren’t they?” she boasted.  She checked the time before grabbing her suit jacket and a briefcase.  “Me and your stepfather are heading out to the office, so you boys behave yourselves, all right?”  

“We promise!” Cyrus told her while T.J. gave out a weak, “Will do,” and with that, Cyrus’s mom and stepdad were out the door after a flourish of blown kisses and waves goodbye.  Oh, did they love their little boy!

T.J. grabbed the bottle of syrup, squeezing a plentiful amount onto his waffle before cutting off a bite-sized piece with his fork and sticking it into his mouth with a satisfied “mhm”.  Cyrus dug into his own, making sure to pile tons of whipped cream on top of his. T.J. looked at the bottle with longing eyes before he sprayed some onto his own waffles, too.

“This tastes so good,” he murmured to himself as he stuffed his mouth full.  Cyrus laughed.

“I told you they were the best!”  T.J. nodded in agreement, adding another waffle or two onto both of their plates.  After they finished up, scraping their plates prior to dropping them into the sink, they both drifted back into the living room, neither of them having a plan on what to do next.  As they plopped onto the couches, their stomachs full, they plunged into an awkward silence.

“Thanks for staying up with me last night,” Cyrus said, daring himself to glance at the boy beside him.  He was so close to T.J. he could just reach out and _touch_ him.  From his spot on the double sectional Cyrus took note of the sharp curve of T.J.’s jawline, the light splay of freckles dotted across his cheeks that were only visible up close, the hue of his eyes (they seemed to vary from color to color, he had realized), and the cute slope of his nose.  And—wait, was that syrup on the corner of his mouth?

“No problem, even though I was supposed to stay up all night with—what are you doing?” T.J. asked.  Cyrus paused, boring into his eyes and his thumb ceased in motion. _I didn’t even realize I was doing that!_

Cyrus quickly withdrew his hand, almost as if T.J.’s skin had burned him, and he blushed deeply.  “Sorry, uh…,” _how do I explain this without sounding weird?_ “...you had syrup on your face.”  

T.J. gave Cyrus that small smirk he had become accustomed to, and the butterflies in his stomach flared up at the gesture.  “Oh, okay.” Just then, a buzz emitted from T.J.’s phone (saving Cyrus from the tense silence that was sure to follow), and T.J. grabbed it from the coffee table where it had been resting.  He read the message and typed a quick reply before tossing it aside carelessly. “My mom’s coming to pick me up in twenty minutes.”

Cyrus’s stomach dropped.  He had been planning to tell T.J. his secret today!  And now he was pressed for time…maybe he should postpone?

 _No,_ a voice in his head (that suspiciously sounded like Buffy) interrupted him. _You can do this.  It’ll be okay._

Cyrus took a deep breath before he returned back to reality to find T.J. staring back at him.

“You okay?” the basketball player asked him with worried eyebrows, and Cyrus nodded once, building up the courage the meet T.J.’s eyeline.

“I hope I will be.”  At T.J.’s confused expression, Cyrus just shook his head.  “I wanted to tell you about my stuff,” he admitted.

T.J. grinned.  “Oh, so you have other stuff besides being afraid of the dark and swinging too high?” he teased, and Cyrus smiled back, but wasn’t able to match T.J.’s mirth with all the knots in his belly making him feel nauseated.

“Yeah.  This is worse.” he said, his heart beginning to pound. _There’s no going back now._ “I have a crush.”

T.J. tilted his head to the side slightly in confusion.  “That’s not too bad.”

Cyrus gulped.   _Here goes nothing_.  “On a boy.”

T.J.’s eyebrows jumped in surprise.  Clearly he had not expected that to come out of Cyrus’s mouth.  “Really?” he asked in pure disbelief.

Cyrus’s stomach plunged.  Was he wrong about T.J.? Would T.J. stop being his friend just because he liked boys instead of girls?  “Yeah. Are…are you okay with that?” Cyrus asked worriedly, fidgeting with material of his dinosaur pajamas.  In order to avoid looking at T.J. (he was probably giving him murderous glances at the moment), he began to list the dinosaurs he saw on his PJs.   _Oh, look, a T-Rex.  And there’s a Velociraptor.  Ooh, and a Triceratops…_

T.J. snorted, shaking Cyrus from his train of thought.  “Cyrus, I’d be kind of a hypocrite if I wasn’t.”

Cyrus’s head jerked up in surprise.  Had he heard that right? “Wait, what?” he said bluntly.  He was in too much shock to be embarrassed. Was T.J. like him?  Had he been gay all along?

T.J. sighed, and he twiddled with the tassles hanging decoratively off of one of the couch pillows, mirroring Cyrus’s nervous tactics from a few moments before.  “I like a guy, too.”

Cyrus’s eyes widened.  He had definitely not expected _this_ at all.  “Oh. On who?”

T.J. paused on fidgeting with the tassles, and he gave a raised eyebrow.  “Do you really want to know?”

Cyrus nodded fervently at the boy’s remark, and T.J.’s expression morphed into a slight smirk at Cyrus’s eager response.  “Guess we’ll have to play Truth or Dare to find out.”

Under normal circumstances Cyrus would’ve laughed and humored the boy, but this was no ordinary circumstance, and he was hungry for information.  “Okay, T.J., truth or da—”

“Ah, ah, ah, Underdog,” T.J. chastised him, much like how Cyrus had done to him earlier that morning.  “It’s my turn.” Cyrus nearly slapped himself. Of _course_ it was T.J.’s turn.  What if T.J. asked him about _his_ crush?  And would he tell him the truth?  Should he? And what if T.J. liked him back?  He hadn’t even thought about that possibility…

Cyrus shoved all of his questions and comments to the back of his mind, all of them overwhelming his brain.   _Just focus on the task at hand_ , he reminded himself.  That seemed to calm him down.

“Underdog, truth or dare?” T.J. asked with a smirk so wide that it made Cyrus feel uneasy.

“Truth,” he responded as his heart pounded in his chest.  What could go wrong with the truth?

T.J. smiled at his response.  Uh oh. This couldn’t be good.  “Who do you like, Cyrus?”

Cyrus’s heart completely stopped beating. _That.  That is what could go wrong with the truth._  “I’m afraid to say.”

T.J. lightly tapped his knee.  “I won’t judge.”

Cyrus gulped, and he squeezed his eyes shut.  Was it too late to back out? “I like…,” _I can’t believe I’m about to say this,_ “...you,” he breathed out.  His heart skipped. “I like you, T.J.”

The boy in front of him seemed to remain indifferent to his confession, but Cyrus thought he caught a hint of a smile being fought back.  Or maybe he was reading too much into T.J.’s expressions? He did tend to have an overactive imagination at times.

“Your turn,” T.J. reminded him, managing to maintain a straight face.  Cyrus silently cursed at him for his poker face. He could put gamblers to shame.

“Truth or dare?” Cyrus asked breathlessly.

T.J. pretended to think about it before answering.  “Truth.”

Cyrus’s breath caught in his throat, and he fought back a smile.  Normally T.J. picked dare. “Who do _you_ like, T.J.?”

T.J. scooted a few centimeters closer, which didn’t go unnoticed by Cyrus.  “Well, the guy I like is _super_ smart…” _Don’t get your hopes up, Cyrus.  It could be anyone._  “And he really _really_ likes chocolate chocolate-chip muffins.” _Anyone can have an affinity for those, they’re delicious!_  “I had to help get him one once, actually.”  

An indescribable feeling bloomed throughout Cyrus’s entire body, and he raised his head to meet T.J.’s line of sight.  Surely there couldn’t have been more than one guy that T.J. had helped get a chocolate chocolate-chip muffin, right? “Really?”

“Really.”  Before Cyrus could squeal, or do anything to remotely express the unlimited amount of joy he was feeling in that moment, T.J. spoke.  “So, Cyrus, truth or dare?”

Cyrus was confused for a second.  T.J. still wanted to play? Even after they had confessed their feelings for each other?  He glanced at T.J. unsurely; what did he have up his sleeve? “You know what? I’ll choose dare.”  

A smile broke out onto T.J.’s face; Cyrus gave him exactly what he wanted.

T.J. inched closer to him, and Cyrus’s breath caught in his throat at the action.  “I dare you to kiss me.”

Cyrus’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  Wait…T.J. wanted him to kiss him? On the lips?  Was he serious? Surely he couldn’t have meant that…  
His eyes flickered unsurely up to T.J., who looked pretty confident in his statement.  When T.J. raised his eyebrows expectantly, Cyrus took a deep breath and, in a sudden burst of confidence, shakily leaned forward.  Was he actually doing this? Was this actually happening?

Cyrus’s eyes flitted down to T.J.’s lips one last time before he closed his eyes and plunged forward, pressing his lips firmly against T.J.’s.  He was actually doing this!

His heart hammered in his chest as T.J.’s lips moved softly against his own, and a warm feeling blossomed in his chest.  This was probably the most exciting thing to happen to him, ever!

Cyrus, originally having no place for his hands, ended up cradling both sides of T.J.’s face while T.J.’s hands rested on the side of his neck, his fingers curling around the nape of his neck, and Cyrus was pretty sure that they had both died and gone to heaven.  Stuff like this _didn’t happen to him_.  Surely this was some beautiful, amazing dream!  And definitely one that he never wanted to end!

Eventually they broke apart, both of them desperately needing air, and Cyrus beamed in disbelief as he caught his breath.  “That was…”

“Wow,” T.J. agreed, running a hand through his tousled hair incredulously.  His eyes were sparkling, and Cyrus wondered if his own eyes were mirroring T.J.’s delirious expression.  

Their eyes met in their half-dazed state, and T.J. began to lean in once more, causing Cyrus’s heart to pound in anticipation.  However, before their lips met again, they were both shaken from their mesmerized stupor by a rattling _honk!_ that emitted from outside.

T.J. sighed at the sudden sound.  “That would be my mom,” he said, reluctantly pulling away from Cyrus.  He began to collect his belongings near the entryway, and Cyrus shuffled behind him, unwilling to let the boy go just yet.  

As T.J. slung his backpack over his shoulder, he quickly pulled on his shoes and tucked his sleeping bag under his arm.  “Looks like I got this out for noth—hmph!” Cyrus cut him off with one last sweet, chaste kiss on the lips, and he abruptly pulled away before T.J. had time to react.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?  At the swings?” Cyrus asked, a deep blush highlighting his cheeks.

T.J. beamed widely in response, and he ruffled Cyrus’s hair before he strolled out the door.  “I’ll see you there,” he said, grinning over his shoulder. As Cyrus watched T.J. descend down the porch steps, waving at him one last time before he left his line of sight, he leaned against the door frame with a smile on his face.  Sleepovers were more than he bargained for, that’s for sure!

**Author's Note:**

> Bless this for finally being finished. I absolutely loved this prompt (you guys should’ve seen the outline for this, it was pretty hilarious!), and I hope all of you guys like it, too. Please leave a comment to let me know if my hard work paid off at all (seriously, comments and kudos are so encouraging and I appreciate them tons!). Check me out on AO3 and fanfiction.net, as well. Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~emmagrace13


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